Re: Quicklog: Vegas, Sam & Mere
[Cris had sunglasses on and a baseball cap pulled forward, but, yeah, it was hot. There was no fall here, huh? No leaves, just sand and urban sprawl, things built out, not up. The guy's hoodie was on Sam and he'd stripped off his sweatshirt before they even crossed the threshold to the hotel, so that put him in a dark gray v-neck and black jeans, his sneakers the only white making an appearance, scuffed and grimy as they were.—But, where Sam was buoyant with a lacka knowledgea the stuff they'd gone through with Meredith, maybe pulled there by wayward sympathy, Cris wasn't so happy.
He wasn't upset, but he wasn't happy. He had his hands in his pockets, "strutting" behind the girl, watching her ass like an idiot, 'til she stopped, them already in gutsa the house that grew from the sandy ground, green and dull, and in fronta Meredith's door. He blinked behind shades, pulling them slow from his face now that they were inside, and he looked down at Sam, still over-fond.
Magnetism from the sofa, heat that still burned in his belly, had him reel her close, up against him as he fingered blonde pigtail.] I'm okay, baby. You'll see her. She can't do nothin' to me. [He got that she didn't get it the same way now, what happened, but he was kinda glad 'bout that. He knew the shuttered, hooded look to eyes, having seen them for years at his desk, a darkness birthed only after this especial trauma, and it shadowed nothing in Sam's blue. And even if it was temporary, the guy was glad for that ignorance.
It occurred to him, belated, that she didn't know what she was walking into.] She—In the door we were in, a nightmare place, she got her eyes... poked out. She should be bandaged up, but just so you know. I wanna go in with you. [He kissed her once, solemn (if too lingering).] Just stay close to me, huh? [He swatted her ass once, before he reached behind her and turned the knob, opening the door with her still drawn up to him in partial embrace.]